The Bedding
by TrivialQueen
Summary: "The Laird and his Lady are now abed." She said clearly, taking a deep breath to support her words over the crowd gathered. "But we are not and the night is still young, shall we return to the dance and finish the Lord Macintosh's wine?" MerGuffin, mentions of Young Macintosh/OFC. A one-shot continuation of 'A Merry War'.


The Bedding

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Disclaimer: I am not BRAVE enough to claim to own Merida, the suitors, or anyone else.

Summary: "The Laird and his Lady are now abed." She said clearly, taking a deep breath to support her words over the crowd gathered. "But we are not and the night is still young, shall we return to the dance and finish the Lord Macintosh's wine?" MerGuffin, mentions of Young Macintosh/OFC. A one-shot continuation of 'A Merry War'.

_Author's Note: This is what happens when you let Cait read George R.R. Martin and more importantly too much A Song of Ice and Fire Fanfiction._

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The bedding ceremony is one Merida would dearly like to see abandoned, and when she is Queen she just might end it herself if her subjects do not do so first. The glee with which they call to one another and grope at the groom and his Lady tells her it is unlikely the ceremony will be disregarded without royal help. She can tell by the look in Laird Macintosh's eye that while the small folk might complain she would have the support of her leeward Lord. There is a mixture of fear and discomfort, mortification and something else as the women gather mortification and something else as the women gather around him, pushing and pulling him to the wedding cottage, tearing at his kilt and sash. Trying to strip him naked out in the open to see and touch as much of him as they can. He stumbles as he tries to walk, hold up his now unfastened kilt and avoid grasping, greedy hands and covetous eyes.

He is flushed apple red as hands goose him at every turn. Rosalyn is the lucky one, perhaps the first bride not to be similarly harassed. At the first drunken call of "bedding" Gregor had left Merida's side to go and stand beside Lady Rosalyn, nodding to the Laird as he passed. Their expressions are serious as if the dance circle were a battlefield. As the calls for bedding grow louder and the light dimmer Gregor's brothers joined him. When the drunken male populace comes to 'help her' to bed they don't get within arm's reach. Gregor puts her on his shoulder, high above grasping hands and safe from lewd touches. She shrieks all the same but bound up in the arms of a noble northern man and surrounded by his kin she is the lucky one. The protection to her honor Gregor gives and the care in arrangements Dougal had made for his Lady's comfort makes her love the blonde boy all the more and respect grow and overcome the dislike she had harbored for the dark-haired one.

"Leave him alone!" She called rushing after the horde of women clamoring after the Laird and their last chance at a piece of the freshly married man. The Lords and her father in the midst of an argument listened better than the leeward maidens. They paid no more attention to the protests of a princess than those of the groom.

Eventually she gave up her protests and instead squirmed her way to the Laird, positioning herself between his posterior and searching hands. She bats at them for him, walking back to back with the taller lad. It was not much, but enough to let him properly hold his kilt and maintain a hint of dignity.

Gregor had deposited Rosalyn in the marriage cabin and then blocked the door, moving only far enough aside to allow his best friend to slip hastily inside. Merida was not aware her guard duty was terminated until she bumped into the solid, warm mass of Gregor. His large hands dropped to her waist to steady her and a tingle went up her spine. That jolt unsteadied her more than anything else. He took a step forward, moving him with her so that Dougal could close the door behind them. The slide of the bolt brought her from her thoughts - how she was certain that his hands could touch one another as they encircled her waist.

"Wellthat'stakencareof. Wecanleavethemalonenow." Gregor announced, his Doric lit even more pronounced in front of an audience, but Merida understood, or at least thought she understood.

"The Laird and his Lady are now abed." She said clearly, taking a deep breath to support her words over the crowd gathered. "But we are not and the night is still young, shall we return to the dance and finish the Lord Macintosh's wine?" A tipsy cheer went up from the assembly and they slowly began to make their way back to the wedding feast, moving en mass and singing a bawdy song as they went. Gregor remained rooted to the spot until the last of the revelers turned to return to the feast and his brothers, Alistair, Cameron, and Neill followed. Merida watched them all go, her back still pressed against the Northern Laird's front.

"That wentwell." She felt the words rumble through his chest as he spoke, his voice a little slower, enunciation more deliberate.

"Aye," she agreed looking up at him, her head tipped back into his shoulder. "It did, mostly thanks to you, Gregor MacGuffin. Yer a good friend."

"I try." He replied, clearly trying to speak clearly. "AndDougalpromisedtodothesamefor meonmyweddingnight." He added looking down at her. Merida felt herself color to the roots of her hair.

"Shall we join the others?" She asked. Gregor quietly nodded and offered her his arm.

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_Author's Note II: I know that traditional bedding ceremonies were not co-ed like this one is. Women took the bride and men took the groom and no one got an eye or a handful of anyone. But like I said, this is fanfiction and the idea was inspired by fanfiction. Also, at least in my mind, it's a way to play with Dougal's playboy image and what I picture to be a more conservative, less promiscuous reality. And my little soap box for 'neither guys nor girls appreciate being touched without their consent'. /rambling-semi-rant_


End file.
